Wrangled (Steele Ranch 2)

I heard Boone’s groan through the phone.

“Kitten?” he asked.

I cleared my throat, repeated Jamison’s words.

/> “You just got me so hard,” Boone told me when I was done. “Want to know what I’m going to do to you tomorrow night when I pick you up?”

I bit my lip, looked at Jamison. Knew it was going to make me all hot again. I wouldn’t be able to wait until then to come again. I’d need Jamison to ease the ache later. And I knew he would. Knew his dick would be up to the task.

Jamison’s hand came up, stroked over my hair, down my arm. An easy, light gesture. A tender one that was completely at odds with the wild fucking we’d just completed.

“Tell him, Kitten. Tell Boone exactly what you want, no matter how dirty it is. He’ll give it to you. You’ll get more than a finger in that tight ass. He’d get a plug in you, and soon one of our dicks. We’ll take that virginity, too. You’re ours. Always.”

Yes, I was seeing that now. Kady had been right. They wanted more. They wanted it all and I felt good. Not just my pussy, but my heart, too.

I put my hand on Jamison’s chest, nodded. “Yes, Boone. Tell me. I can’t wait.”

12

BOONE

It had been a week since we claimed Kitten for the first time and while she’d spent each night at either my house or Jamison’s cabin, we were in the main house for a large group dinner. The space was the easiest for such a task, the kitchen large, the dining room table big enough to fit a bunch of oversized men.

She’d insisted on cooking for everyone, all the ranch hands plus Kady and her men. Both women decided a weekly meal together was good for all of us. Since I was pussy-whipped, or Kitten-whipped, if she wanted to cook for our pseudo big family, I’d eat. Happily.

Other than this meal, the house went neglected. Kady lived with her men and Kitten had spent every night since we claimed her in one of our beds. I didn’t want her staying here. Jamison really didn’t want it. He was adamant about it since he’d been there when the fucker went after Kady. Seen the dead body, the knife he’d had on him. It would remain vacant, except for some of these big group get-togethers, until the next Steele daughter was found and moved in. Before then, Jamison and Riley were working with a security company to get it well protected.

Jamison had read Patrick and Shamus the fucking riot act for not watching out for Kitten at the Silky Spur. Based on the way they were all but falling over themselves for her and Kady, they’d gotten the message loud and clear.

Since then, they’d been on their best behavior, which was why they popped up, their chairs scraping across the wood floor in their haste, when Jamison said, “You know what the rule is,” Jamison told the table at large. He stood and grabbed his plate, winked at Kitten. “He who cooks, doesn’t clean.”

They grabbed as many empty dishes as possible and beelined right for the kitchen on Jamison’s heels.

Sutton, one of the other hands, remained in his seat, arms crossed, slowly shaking his head. He was older than the others, close to my age and had spent years in the military. He was ruthless enough to shoot the fucker that had gone after Kady. A perfect, single shot right through the heart. If he’d been at the Silky Spur last week, no way would he have let Kitten out of his sight.

Riley stood, leaned down and kissed the top of Kady’s head, murmured in her ear, “I’ll get the dessert. I’m looking forward to the whipped cream.” Her face turned beet red and she refused to look up from her plate. I had to wonder what the three of them had done with the sweet topping.

“Everything was delicious, Penny,” Sutton said, placing his napkin on the table.

She’d gone simple with hamburgers and all the fixings, potato wedges and a salad. Brownies—with whipped cream. And she’d been smart enough to know big men ate big quantities and had made tons.

Beneath the table, I took hold of Kitten’s hand, squeezed it. She blushed, pleased by the praise. She’d been soaking it up all week, relaxing and settling into her life in Barlow. Out from under her mother’s ruthless dictates, she was blossoming. The congresswoman had called a few times, but Kitten had let them all go to voicemail. While I would never lay a hand on a woman, I wanted to with Nancy Vandervelk. She’d used her daughter’s need for motherly affection as a weapon. If Kitten toed the line, did exactly what her mother wanted, she was given scraps of attention. Affection. If she didn’t…Kitten knew what would happen and hadn’t been prepared for the consequences. That was why she was twenty-two and had just finished a Master’s program in an area where she had no interest.

No longer. I had to agree with Kitten. Aiden Steele had saved her. His death had brought out the truth of her past. No, it had pulled out all of her mother’s lies. Knowing this allowed Kitten to understand more about herself and begin to break away. The fuck-all was, her mother had made her feel like the real Penelope Vandervelk was a failure for wanting something different than her mother. To be different than her overly ambitious step-brothers and step-sister. But she was only a Vandervelk on paper. Her personality, her spirit, was all Steele.

She hadn’t confronted her mother yet, but it was only a matter of time. When she truly believed Jamison and I were around for good, for forever, she’d have the confidence, the support in place to finish the job.

How she didn’t completely trust yet only proved how many wounds her mother had inflicted. She gave herself to us wholeheartedly, but until she resolved things with her mother, she’d never be completely free. Because of that, she’d moved from house to house, Jamison’s and mine, depending on whether I was working. Soon we’d work out where we could all live together. One house for the three of us. And all the kids that she was going to give us. She’d get the real family she wanted so badly. That I wanted to give her.

She’d shared so much of herself in the past seven days—she was allergic to blueberries, loved action-adventure movies, liked the color purple based on the sheer quantity of sexy lavender lingerie she taunted us with, and was as ravenous for us as we were for her. The only casualty were the sexy panties we ripped off her.

She was far from a virgin now. That first night, she’d been right about us. We’d been thinking she’d be all tentative and fearful of two big men and even bigger dicks wanting to get in her, all the dark and dirty things we wanted to do to her just because she’d never fucked before.

She’d told us off, stomped that cute little cowboy boot and had never looked back. I smiled to myself thinking about that, that the only time she did look back was when I had her in my bed and took her from behind and she told me deeper. Harder. More.

I shifted in my seat, my dick hard, just thinking about how she’d pushed back, giving as much as she got until we came together in a hot, sweaty mess.

As for the rest? Kitten was here with us and that alone allowed me to be patient. Patient for her to be ready for more, for the next step. A ring on her finger. That would probably happen in the next week or so, when she most likely missed her period. I’d done a rotation in OB/GYN during my residency, knew all about the best days to get pregnant. For Kitten, until I knew about her cycle, I couldn’t actually calculate the days she’d be ovulating, but was pretty sure we’d hit every one of them, fucking her and filling her up sometimes twice a day. She was young, healthy. I had no doubt we’d bred her.